Kiss the Blood Off My Hands
by CBeta
Summary: PostHogwarts, WIP. Harry has killed Voldemort, but only at the loss of his closest family and friends. Now he's alone and depressed. Can Draco help him? Summary may be changed to fit the plotline.
1. A Killing

**A/N: **I know, the last thing I should be doing is writing another fic, especially since I already have one in progress and am _supposed _to be writing a sequal to FAAR - unfourtunately, my muse has momentarily left me for that particular fic, and so it has been put on hold. Have no fears, though, there _will _be a sequal. It will just take a bit longer than I planned. This fic will be updated sporadically, and may have long lags, so please don't get _too_ attatched. It will be finished, and I've estimated that there will be over twenty chapters in all, though there may be more and though it is highly unlikely, there may be less. Once I finish WDYLM, this fic will be updated more regularly, but since not even WDYLM is updated regularly, I cannot promise you much. I do hope that you like this fic, though. Please tell me what you think!

**WARNINGS: **Slight OOCness.

**Chapter One**

**A Killing**

Harry had defeated Voldemort. Although the last battle had been a blur to him, he remembered, painfully, every single person that had been killed by Voldemort's hand; Ron, Remus, Neville, Semus, and so many more. Their coffins continually rested on Harry's conscious. There were so many what-if's and if-only's, and Harry was just the type to linger over every single one.

Currently, Harry was sitting in a far corner of a muggle pub, swirling the dark, ember-colored drink in his glass, staring into it as if the liquid held all the world's mysteries. The bar was nearly empty; a few muggles sat at the bar and a rowdy group of young men was gathered around a table in some other far corner. Harry was virtually alone.

It had been nearly half a year since the final battle had taken place. Harry had yet to return to the Wizarding World. Hermione Granger, so lost in her grief, had not approached Harry about it, as she normally would have under different circumstances. She kept in her room in Number 12, Grimmauld Place, most of the time, and only came out to eat meager amounts of food. Mrs. Weasley looked upon her, with sad eyes, as a second daughter. Hermione may have been, too, if only…

Harry sighed and took a long drag of the cigarette that was dangling between his fingers. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were bloodshot - he had been drinking since sunset; it was nearly after midnight, now.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Harry jumped into a defensive stance to glare at the man who had touched him.

"Hey, buddy, I don't want no trouble," the man said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "But I think you've had enough." His eyes were drawn to the cigarette that had been dropped to the floor, and he cocked a brow. "That's gonna have to be put out. We don't allow no smoking here. This is an honest establishment here. We don't want no trouble,"

Harry remained in his stance, ready to strike at the man who was staring at him. The man was quite large, most likely a bouncer. His face was actually quite friendly, and Harry wondered if he would have made a good friend, if only things were different. But they weren't.

Harry stamped the cigarette out with the heel of his nicely polished shoe with a nod in acknowledgement, clenching his fists at his sides.

"We don't want no trouble," the man repeated, and Harry's eyes narrowed at him. He wasn't quite sure what spurred him into action. In fact, everything from that very first punch was a blur. But when his anger had finally left him, he was a panting heap on the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his ribs.

He was hurt, that was for sure. A sudden pressure at his feet caused Harry to look up. The man who had told him that he had had enough was lying there, face down, blood pooling around his head and leaking from his mouth and nose.

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand. Maybe he had hit him harder than he had meant.

The loud chatter dwindled down to a low murmur, until finally; there was silence loud enough to hear a pin drop. Nobody did anything. Doing something was up to the bouncer, and the bouncer was lying on the floor. It didn't look like he would be doing anything for a while.

Harry struggled to his feet, using the wall as support more than he would have liked. He looked, stricken, down at the bouncer on the floor, his face a deathly pale color and his mouth dry as cotton. After a long bout of staring at the man on the floor, Harry went back to his table and leant down to pick up his still half-full glass of whiskey. He downed it in one gulp, and then slammed it on the table once more.

He then knelt down to the muggle bouncer, withdrawing his wand from his pants pocket. Flicking the wand at the bouncer, he murmured the '_Enervate_' spell.

The bouncer's body curled and his back arched. For a moment, hope shone in Harry's eyes. That soon dwindled away when the bouncer collapsed once more on the dingy floor, not moving another inch.

Harry wasn't a healer. But he could tell when someone was dead. He had seen enough death since his birth to know the difference between dead and unconscious.

His panicked eyes glanced up to look around. Everyone was unmoving. The old men at the bar were each holding on to a large mug of urine colored brew, in the midst of making a loud toast. The young men at their discrete table were murmuring to each other, but Harry couldn't hear what they were saying. The bartender himself had been in the process of cleaning a mug with a dingy wash rag, but now the mug was dangling uselessly in one hand, mouth forming a nearly perfect 'O' of surprise.

The whisky had a very short-lived run through Harry's veins; it was completely gone now, leaving Harry sober in his moment of need. Harry finally broke the silence. "I…I'm…sorry," he stuttered out, before quickly rushing from the bar.

Everyone stared after him in surprise for a while, before the bartender chased after Harry. He came back a few long moments later, scratching his head in disbelief. Harry had been nowhere in sight.

"Well?" the bartender growled out. "What are you waiting for? Call a hospital!"

Panic spread throughout the room as the young men all dug for their cell phones and the old men rushed around looking for the phone that was conveniently hidden behind the counter. The bartender rushed over to the comatose bouncer, and sighed in relief when he felt a very faint pulse in the man's throat.

**XXX**

Harry had popped up on their doorstep rather unexpectedly, and Draco Malfoy was hardly dressed for visitors at such a late time. Grudgingly, he opened the door and allowed Harry in. Mrs. Weasley engulfed Harry in a tight hug to which Harry didn't respond. He stood stiffly in her arms until they dropped to her sides and she stared at him critically.

"Harry, are you quite all right?" she asked.

Harry stared soulfully into her eyes, his lips curling down in a worried frown. He nodded briefly, and followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen without a word.

Draco stared after Harry with his brows furrowed, then shook his head and went up to his room to change.

On his way back down to the kitchen, he grudgingly knocked on Hermione's door. "Granger," he barked, and the door was yanked open before he could say another word.

"What do you want?" Hermione asked. Her eyes were red and puffy and her face was blotchy, probably from crying.

Draco sighed and swallowed the pity that rose in his throat every time he saw Granger in this state. "Potter has come to visit," he stated simply, and Hermione stared critically at him.

"He hasn't been here since…since…" she broke off her sentence on a sob and Draco nodded knowingly, his body wanting to do nothing more than draw her into a tight hug and smother her until she no longer felt pain. He resisted the urge.

Hermione sniffed once more and she nodded, shutting the door in Draco's face. Draco stared indignantly at the door for a few long moments, before he huffed and started down the stairs.

**XXX**

Harry remained silent as Mrs. Weasley served him tea. Hermione and Draco joined them moments later, Draco sitting across from Harry and averting his eyes, and Hermione sitting beside him, looking down at her cup of tea.

It was late, but they hadn't been used to getting much sleep, especially since the mounting of the war. Now that the war was over, they still held some of their war-like habits.

An awkward silence ensued, until Harry had completed his tea and sat at the table rather shakily, staring at a very interesting knot in the gnarled wood of the table. "So," Mrs. Weasley's voice caused Harry to jump in alarm. Mrs. Weasley smiled apologetically at him. "What brings you here, and at such a late hour?"

Harry looked up at her, his eyes gleaming. Good old Mrs. Weasley, she hadn't been changed at all by the war. Though her youngest son had been killed, she seemed to be faring quite well.

Hermione's questioning voice brought Harry out of his musings. "Harry?"

Harry met first Hermione's, then Mrs. Weasley's eyes, and he inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a long time.

"I've…I think I…that is…I'm so sorry," Harry began, looking once again at the interesting knot on the table.

"Sorry for what, Harry dear?"

"I…" Harry sighed, then breathed in deeply once more.

"Spit it out, Potter, we haven't got all night." Draco interjected. Hermione kicked him under the table and Draco glared at her but kept his mouth shut.

"I think I've killed a man," Harry finally said, his voice soft and his pupils dilated.

Mrs. Weasley smothered a gasp with her fist, her eyes immediately glazed. Hermione stared at him for a moment as if she were in awe. "Oh, Harry,"

And she fell into him then, grappling with his shoulders and wrapping her arms around his waist and sobbing into his neck. "Oh, Harry, oh Harry,"

Mrs. Weasley restrained herself from doing the same by sitting heavily next to Draco, who was staring at Harry wide eyed and slack jawed.

When Hermione quieted down and pulled away, wiping her eyes and apologizing, Mrs. Weasley asked the inevitable question. "Who?"

Harry exhaled. "A muggle. I was at a muggle pub, and this bouncer, he…Oh, my god. I've killed a man," Harry stared down at his hands as if seeing blood that wasn't there. "I've killed a man," he repeated. The actuality of what he had done was finally sinking in, and Harry found himself sobbing into his hands, repeatedly saying between sobs, "I've killed a man,"

Draco met Mrs. Weasley's eyes. "Surely he can't be serious?" he asked as Hermione tried to comfort Harry.

Mrs. Weasley stared at Harry sadly. "I believe that he is, Draco,"

Draco's brow furrowed once again. "What are we going to do?"

Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and looked skeptically at Harry. "I don't know, Draco."

"Surely we're going to do something?" Hermione asked, rubbing her hand up and down Harry's spine softly as Harry shuddered and sobbed in despair.

Mrs. Weasley smiled brightly as an idea popped into her head. She stood and went over to shake Harry gently. "Harry," she asked, her voice desperate as a plan formed in her head. "You didn't use any magic, did you? You didn't do anything that can trace this back to you, did you?"

Harry shook his head, then stopped mid-shake. "I, uh…I used enervate."

Mrs. Weasley closed her eyes and sighed. Opening them, she smiled at Harry. "Why did you do that, Harry?"

"I…I didn't know that he was dead."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said with a soft smile, though it was sad. "Enervate doesn't work on muggles. Hardly any magic does!"

Harry blinked and furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"

"Because muggles have no magical power, anything magical will have no effect on them."

"But muggles can have children that have magical influence." Harry said, thoroughly confused.

"How that is possible is still a mystery," Hermione said, one side of her lips curling into a slight, knowing smirk.

"But…the enervate made him come up off of the floor. He arched his back and curled into the fetal position," Harry stated. "You can't tell me that that's not an effect of my magic."

Hermione's smirk died on her lips and she looked away.

"He could still be alive," Draco said, jumping up from where he was seated.

"But if he's not," Mrs. Weasley said, shooting Draco a look that had him easing back onto the bench. "We'll help you, Harry. We'll hide you."

"Have you gone bloody mad?" Draco shrieked suddenly, surprising both Harry and Hermione, who both jumped slightly. "I'll have no part in this! Hide him…You've gone nutters!"

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Draco, be quiet."

"That's nearly treason!" Draco continued to crow. "After my involvement in the war…wounds are still fresh, Molly! They'll never trust me again if they find out-"

"Which is why they won't." Hermione said, cutting Draco off.

Harry watched the exchange silently. "No!" he shouted. "I won't let you stick your necks out for me! I can't!"

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley began, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please, trust me. We'll keep you safe. I promise. We will,"

Harry pulled away from her. "No one can keep me safe now," he said, his voice bitter and angry. "They never could,"

"Harry, wait!"

Harry ran out of the room, but before he got out of the house, Molly shot a curse at him, blindsiding him. Harry stiffened straight as a board, then fell to the ground, immobile.

"I can't let you," Mrs. Weasley said, staring down at him with a frown. "I won't,"

And with that, she murmured a spell that sent Harry hovering, and she led him up the stairs and into the old room that he had shared with Ron.

**XXX**

"You can't keep me here against my will, Malfoy," Harry said when Draco entered Harry's room later that day. The sun was up and Harry stared out the window, elbows resting against his knees, sleeves of his white, button-up cotton shirt rolled up.

"I don't see you struggling against any bonds," Draco said, staring at Harry critically. "So you've killed a muggle, have you? Are you training to be our next Dark Lord, then?"

Harry glared at Draco, his eyes narrowing. "If I do, will you be a blind follower like your father?"

Draco dropped the tray of food that he had been carrying, onto the edge of Harry's bed pointedly. The teacups clattered, nearly falling over. "Don't go there, Potter," he growled out through gritted teeth.

"Idiocy runs in the bloodline after all, I've heard." Harry stated with a smirk.

"Potter, don't," Draco warned.

"Want to be my henchman?" Harry asked, biting into one of the biscuits that Draco had brought him. "No, you're too sophisticated for that," Harry decided. "You'd make a much better…slave." Harry smirked triumphantly at the angry gleam in Draco's eyes.

Seconds later, Draco lunged at Harry. "I'll show you slave, Potter!" he yelled in outrage, slamming Harry fully against the bed and holding him down by locking his wrists in one hand and kneeling on his thighs with his knees. His face was hanging dangerously close to Potter's.

Harry grinned up at Draco with a cocked brow, and for a few seconds, they were back at school, back in their comfortable rivalry, back before the war had taken its toll and nearly taken Harry's soul with it. Sadly, it ended all too soon. Draco shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable, releasing his grasp on Harry's wrists slightly, and Harry used that to his advantage.

He tore his wrists from Draco's grip and tossed Draco onto his back, tackling him, both falling to the floor with Harry landing on Draco's stomach. "I believe, Malfoy," Harry smirked smugly down at Draco. "That this slavery we are speaking of has already been introduced to you…and you like it." An evil gleam found its way into Harry's eyes, and Draco glared venomously up at Harry.

Harry had yet to secure Draco's flailing limbs, and Draco kicked and lunged uselessly. Although Draco was taller than Harry in stature, Harry weighed slightly more. He had managed to put on at least ten pounds in the three years he had been away from Hogwarts.

Draco smirked triumphantly seconds before he reached up and wrenched Harry's head down to his level. "And perhaps you'd like for me to be your slave more than you're letting on…perhaps for more…_pleasurable_," Draco raised his eyebrows suggestively here. "Services." He ended with a lick of his lips, and Harry unconsciously followed Draco's pink tongue with his eyes. Seconds later, his own tongue found itself being slicked along his own lips.

They stayed in their positions for quite a while. Since there was nothing and no one to interrupt them, they lost track of time, staring into each other's eyes and just wondering. It was Draco who made the first move.

A slight pressure was applied to the back of Harry's head, and Draco lifted his own to meet Harry halfway. Their lips met, warm and wet, Harry's slightly rougher than Draco's. Draco probed at Harry's mouth with his tongue teasingly, and to his surprise, Harry allowed his tongue entrance. Draco and Harry's eyes remained locked as their lips suctioned together, tongues entwining tentatively.

Draco found it impossible to read the emotions that were going through Harry's eyes. They had become more shuttered, even before the final battle had been on the horizon. Harry had withdrawn completely once. Draco wouldn't allow it another time.

Draco's eyes slipped shut comfortably, and as Harry relaxed into his grasp, he found himself more free to move. He knew that Harry probably felt vulnerable. This probably wasn't the position he had pictured himself falling into when he had first appeared on the doorstep, but Draco…Draco had been harvesting feelings for Harry since the end of Seventh Year, convinced that he was a complete mystery. But right now, Draco just found that Harry was human. Harry was vulnerable, and Harry needed someone that he could trust just as much as the next person.

Draco ended their kiss with a gentle nip on Harry's lower lip, before pulling away to stare into Harry's eyes. They were glazed over, and Draco could tell that Harry was going over some inner turmoil. "Harry, I-"

Harry's eyes focused and he smiled softly. "I knew it," he said softly, almost too soft for Draco to catch.

Draco stared up at Harry, confusion written clearly on his face. "Knew what?" he asked.

Harry gave Draco a lopsided smile, then leant in and claimed Draco's lips once more.


	2. Sexual Tensions

**A/N: **Yes, this chapter is jumping straight into the relationship forming between Draco and Harry. It's rather fast growing and awkward from the beginning, but a fresh breath from my usual line of work, where we ease into the relationship. In this fic, both Harry and Draco are in their twenties, though they still have some of their teenage characteristics and tendencies.

**Chapter Two**

**Sexual Tension**

Harry hadn't expected it to happen, but somehow, it had. Draco had ended up sleeping with him. Not "sleeping with him" as in "_sleeping _with him", but "sleeping with him" as in the literal sense, "**sleeping **with him". As in _sleeping_. And nothing more.

Of course, somehow in the midst of the night, Harry had ended up shirtless, and Draco had shed his boxers and…Harry was rather embarrassed to wake up that morning with Draco's morning erection pressing against his hip. Thank God for his small mercies, though; Draco had still been asleep.

Harry carefully pried himself away from Draco's clutching arms, where they were spooned awkwardly together, limbs hopelessly tangled. He stared down at Draco for a while, mulling over the previous day's occurrences. The blow hit him harder than he had expected. He had had a full night's rest, been kissed senseless by one of the world's most gorgeous people, and yet…that didn't change the fact that Harry had killed somebody.

Harry would forever be known as a murderer. Of course, there was that one tiny fact that Harry already _was _a murderer, but that had been in self-defense. It had been prophesized about; it was bound to happen, one way or another. And what was Voldemort's one life compared to the hundreds that he had already stolen away?

No, Harry had killed an innocent, and a muggle, at that. He was surely going to Azkaban. With a groan, he buried his face in the soft pillow, clutching his stomach, where a large iron ball of guilt and shame and multiple other pent up and indescribable emotions was forming and roiling about.

Draco began to stir moments later, clenching his eyes shut tightly against the morning light streaming in through the window and tossing his arm over Harry's shoulder awkwardly. "Mornin'," he rasped out, trailing his fingers down Harry's chest. Harry's brow furrowed and he pulled away quickly.

"Erm…good morning," he said, clearing his throat. Draco smiled softly and pulled Harry closer, either not noticing Harry's discomfort or disregarding it completely. Harry found himself in a rather inept position, half of his body wedged uncomfortably against the cold wall and the other half smothered by Draco's rather hot…er, warm body.

Somehow, Draco's lips found their way to Harry's neck, and his tongue unexpectedly slithered out of his mouth to curl around Harry's left earlobe sexily, flicking and teasing. Draco's teeth closed around Harry's ear in a quick nip before he pulled away from his ear and made his way back down Harry's neck to his collarbone, his hot tongue sliding over the bone and his lips closing around a rather sensitive patch of skin and sucking hard. Harry gasped and arched into the touch, but against his bodily wants, he pushed Draco away.

Draco stared down at Harry questioningly, and Harry shook his head, panting. "We…we can't do this."

Draco's blinked in confusion. "Why not?"

Harry took a deep breath and pulled away. "It's just…it's wrong! We just can't."

"We're both adults," Draco said, not seeming to grasp what Harry was desperately trying to portray.

Harry sighed and shook his head once more. "Look, it's not you," he said, and Draco's face fell shortly before he caught himself and schooled his facial features to normal. "No, it's not like that! It's just that…I've got a lot on my plate already without having to deal with you right now, okay?"

Draco looked completely crestfallen. Harry jabbed his fingers into his eye and sighed once more, rubbing back and forth and hoping that maybe Draco would disappear when he opened his eyes again. He had no such luck. "Look, Draco. I've killed a man! A muggle! I can't just let that go!"

Draco thrust his hand into his hair and grunted in acknowledgement. A pregnant moment of awkward silence passed, but it was broken by Draco's sleepily grumbled, "Well, I guess you _are _a morning person."

Harry smiled. "No, I'm not, trust me."

Draco grinned half-heartedly and stood, pulling on his silver silk boxers with quick, shy modesty. "I'm, uh…going down for breakfast. See you there?"

Harry took a moment to look over at the clock on his bedside table. The digital green numbers read nine o'clock AM. He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair, but nodded in agreement. Draco left the room with a smile on his face.

After the door clicked shut after Draco's leave, Harry shoved his glasses on his face and groaned, collapsing on his bed, hanging his head in his hands and leaning his elbows on his knees.

**XXX**

Hermione greeted Draco curtly, not bothering to look up from her daily copy of the _Prophet_. Draco plopped across from her and snatched a triangle of toast from her plate, stuffing it quickly into his mouth before he could be reprimanded for it. He smiled at Hermione's arched brow, and then made for the second triangle, barely managing to snatch it before she grasped his wrist and clenched hard, making him drop the toast with a glare.

Harry entered the room a few minutes later, looking freshly showered and clean, though he was still wearing the clothes he had worn the night before. He greeted Hermione half-heartedly as he sat heavily beside her, keeping his gaze averted from Draco's. Mrs. Weasley bustled up beside him and thrust a heavily laden plate in front of him, along with a thick mug of coffee.

Harry murmured his thanks and lifted the mug to his lips, drinking deeply. His eyes slipped shut in enjoyment as he swallowed, a small drop trickling out of the corner of his mouth and down his chin to drip onto the table with a soft splatter. The mug was empty when Harry put it down again. He then greedily reached for a triangle of toast, only to have it snatched from his plate unexpectedly. He stared at the place where it _had _been confusedly for a few seconds, Draco's chuckle barely reaching his ears.

When he looked up, Draco was innocently drinking from his own mug of coffee, though a smile played teasingly on his lips. Harry flushed and he looked longingly at the toast on Hermione's plate. She seemed quite submersed in her paper; perhaps…

Harry's fingers twitched as they slowly made their way towards her plate, and he quickly grabbed the toast and popped it into his mouth. When Hermione glared up at him, Harry grinned widely, toast crumbs sticking to his lips, and pointed at Draco accusingly. Draco shook his head, his eyes shining with surprise and his mouth forming a wide 'O'. Hermione made a weird noise in the back of her throat before she haughtily returned to her paper.

Harry and Draco shared a conspiracingly jovial look, before they each returned to their own breakfasts.

**XXX**

There wasn't much to do, but Harry was thankful that he had a roof over his head, anyway. Of course, this was by no means implying that Harry was poor. That was not the case, surely. He still had plenty of money left over from his vault, and had even gotten quite a large sum of money from the Ministry after defeating Voldemort. But he liked things small and simple, and though he had enough money to keep him well housed, clothed, and portly for life, Harry preferred to live in a small cottage, far away from nearly any civilization.

But the cottage wasn't home; had never felt like home. He was home now, here at Number Twelve Grimmauld place, and he was, though not happy, nearly so. He could have been happy. He could have been happy anywhere his heart desired. But he had killed a man. And even so, if that had not happened, he had cold-heartedly slayed a dark lord. That accounted for his bitterness. His young life had been stolen away by that monster, and though everyone delighted in the man's death, Harry had gone into a brutal state of depression.

Of course, the fact that he had killed Voldemort, though influencing Harry's depression quite a bit, did not fuel it nearly as much as the deaths of his friends had. He sighed sadly as he thought of Remus, Sirius and Ron. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes even as he did so.

He missed the days back at Hogwarts. He missed the fact that he hadn't graduated. Of course, he had been offered the job of Auror, as he had wanted, but that didn't change the fact that he was a killer, and he had declined the offer. He was a killer even more so, now that he had also killed a muggle. Not to mention all of the other men he had killed during the war, though he liked to think of them as casualties of war, and usually didn't dwell on their deaths the way he did on Voldemort's.

Harry took a long drag of his cigarette -- his last cigarette, as a matter of fact -- and held his breath. The smoke collected in his lungs, causing them to burn, and he reveled in the slight pain.

Just then, hot breath on the back of his neck startled him, nearly causing him to fall down the stairs he was sitting on, and breathe out the smoke in a cloud, coughing and sputtering.

"Malfoy!" he cried out, glaring at Draco as he sat down next to him.

"Hello, Potter," Draco greeted, smirking madly.

"What's your problem?"

"Smoking is a wretched habit," Draco said merrily, ignoring Harry's question.

Harry took another drag of his cigarette just to spite him. Draco's eyes narrowed. Harry grinned wickedly, blowing the smoke in Draco's face, causing Draco to cough and choke this time. Harry laughed.

"Oh, excuse me," Draco said, his voice scathing. "Did I say smoking's a wretched habit? I meant you're a wretched git. And I do believe that you need to get laid."

Harry blinked in surprise. "E…_excuse _me?"

Draco grinned, waving the smoke out of his face. "You heard me, Potter,"

"Yes, I heard you. But what did you mean by that?" Harry asked, his voice cross. Draco just smirked mysteriously. He brushed off the legs of his trousers and stood, not saying anything. Harry stared at him in silence, nearly mesmerized for a few seconds. Then, shaking himself, he asked again. "What the bloody hell did you mean by that?"

"Well, you know what it means when you blow smoke in someone's face," Draco said, eyebrows raising suggestively.

Harry pulled a face and stood, heading for the direction of his bedroom. "I think that it's you that needs to get laid, Malfoy," Harry bit back, entering his room and shutting the door behind him.

Malfoy said nothing. Harry had supposed that he had gone downstairs, and was surprised when Draco came into his room unannounced and uninvited, to plop down on the bed across from his.

Harry really needed to lock his door, he decided. And looking down at the bed he was laying on, he also decided that later on, he would have to transfigure Ron's old bed and his together, to form a bigger bed. He was so big that he nearly fell off of this one.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, glaring over the book he had been reading. It was odd, the way he quickly settled into the home that he had abandoned. Harry pushed that thought to the back of his mind to think about later. Preferably when no one was around.

"You know, Potter," Draco said, twirling a quill he had snatched off of the otherwise bare bedside table. "I think you're right. I _do _need to get laid."

Harry wrinkled up his nose and closed his book. "You're kidding, right?"

Draco looked indignant. "I would never do such a thing," he declared with a glare.

"What, you would never kid?" Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I would never kid about something such as this, no," he stated, after rolling the thought over in his head for a few minutes.

Harry snorted. "Well, good luck with your problem, then," he stated, opening his book again. Under his breath, he muttered to himself, "I'm sure there are many prostitutes who would love to help you out,"

He could feel eyes boring holes through his head, and looked up into fiery eyes. "I heard that," Draco growled.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry. I meant to say it much quieter."

Draco's right eye twitched, and Harry burst out laughing.

"I rather thought you might like to help me out, Potter,"

Harry didn't miss a beat. "Nope," he said, shaking his head jovially. "But I'm sure you can find someone."

With that, he began reading again. Draco was so quiet that he might as well not had been there at all. Harry smirked to himself as he turned the page.

"You know," Draco said after a while. "I believe you're right, once again,"

Harry groaned. "Will you just get done with it, Malfoy?" he complained. "I'm trying to read."

"Well," Draco said, thoughtfully tapping his chin. "I could just solve my own problem. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

Harry, having not heard a word that Draco had said, sighed and agreed. "Yeah, okay, whatever. Now will you drop it?"

Draco smirked, trailing his hand down to the fly of his pants.

**XxX**

**A/N: **Gah, cliffhanger! Sorry, guys! And I'm sorry it's been so long to update, though I promise now that school's out updates will be coming out more often.

Have you seen the three updates on _WDYLM_? (grins widely) That one should be over with soon, though not as soon as you'd all like, I'll bet. I'm working on it daily, though. Anyway, back to the subject. This fic should be updated about once or twice a week, now, so I hope you're keeping a watch out.


End file.
